


(Don't) Touch

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Het, Robot!Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way the Robot!pr0n scene in 'No Reason' should have gone. If the show was on a pay-per-view porn channel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Don't) Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own. But I WANT that robot. Especially if it comes with a free House operator…  
> Author Notes: Spoilery for the ‘No Reason’ episode of House. But also AU, if one can call an alternate ending to a canon!hallucination AU.

If I do something that doesn’t make sense, even to you, stop me.”

House toyed with the controls of the robotic surgeon, making sure he knew what he was doing. He watched the monitor intently, noting that Cameron was looking at him. Straight up at him, her hair splayed and spread around her. Almost as if he was on top of her. _Lying_ on top of her.

Practically of their own volition, his hands worked the controls, bringing a set of grippers down towards her face. She blinked and shifted, obviously a little worried, but House didn’t let that stop him. Mesmerized, he watched as the metal ‘hand’ slipped across her cheek. Like a….caress. Certainly, Cameron appeared to respond to it that way, her eyes slowly closing. And was her breathing rate increasing? Seemed that way to his perceptive eye.

Was it really _him_ doing this- He cut the thought off. “Delicate, no?” he asked casually. Denying that this wasn’t getting to him in some way. After all, this whole exercise was for the benefit of He of the Swollen Tongue and Exploding Balls. Period.

Time to see what else those grippers could do. He made the camera pan downwards, looking for an edge of fabric to grab. There, near her stomach, the hem of her shirt. Considering she’d flashed her belly at him weeks earlier, when she’d lost the ‘happy marriages’ bet, she probably wouldn’t be all that shy to show it off again. He closed the grippers, then manipulated the controls, pulling the fabric slowly back.

There was also an aspirator-type tool at his disposal. Seized with a sudden impulse as her belly-button came into view, he dropped the tip of the aspirator down close to it.

He hit a button, and a puff of air hit Cameron’s skin. Through the camera, he examined her resulting expression, which was practically – orgasmic? He shifted, wishing the PPTH hospital gowns weren’t so….flimsy.

Again as if they had a mind of their own, his hands panned the camera back up her body to the neckline of her blouse. Fascinated, he watched as a cutting tool – again, as if the robot was driving itself, not him - came down, neatly slicing off the top button.

All thoughts of the patient next to him gone, he put the grippers to use again, tugging the fabric away, centimetre by centrimetre. Until the top edging of lace on her bra became visible.

“House,” she gasped, a breathy note in her voice that he’d never heard before. He yanked himself reluctantly back to what he was doing. Or _should_ have been doing. This was supposed to be about the case. A medical thing. And he didn’t want to think about whether she sounded that way in bed, with a lover.

He said to the patient, “Seen enough?”

There was no answer. Impatiently, House looked over to his left, where Cameron had ‘parked’ Mr. Exploding Bits earlier.

No one was there.

Another hallucination? Well if so, House decided he might as well make the most of it.

“Cameron,” he said, turning his full attention back to the monitor. “ _Don’t_ move.”

He watched as the cutting tool slipped lower, now slicing away the next button. And the next. And the next. Until all the buttons had been dissected away from the shirt. Then the gripping tool came down again, pulling one side of her shirt out of the way. Then the other.

House still watched, enthralled. Skin like white peaches. Pale lilac bra, lacy and feminine. And Cameron with her eyes closed and her mouth open, breathing shallow and fast.

There was a front-hook on her bra. Were the grippers dexterous enough to work it free? A tug, and it was. He used the grippers once more, this time to push the lacy fabric away. Beautiful. No surprise there.

Curious to see the reaction, hebrought the aspirator down again, aiming a shot of air at one nipple. Watching raptly as it responded and hardened. She made a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and he glanced over the monitor this time, to see her digging her fingers into the soft surface of the operating table.

He wasn’t done. The tip of the aspirator was round, smooth. Time for another experiment. He moved the tool over to the other nipple, but this time worked the controls a bit differently, using the tip of the attachment to caress the sensitive spot. Another soft gasp from Cameron, another stiffening of the little pink tip. Very nice.

What else could he do with this thing? The possibilities teased at him.

There was another gripper at his disposal, so he tried using both at once, quickly figuring out how to use them to undo her fly. Then he moved one to each hip, starting to pull her pants down.

He’d ordered her not to move, but she wasn’t obeying. She was twisting, wriggling, helping the robotic hands to divest her of the pants. Making herself useful, so he decided he’d let it go.

It was a slow and laborious process, but eventually her pants were on the floor. Nice lacy panties, he noted. Not the same colour as her bra, but this wasn’t a Victoria’s Secret photoshoot. Although what exactly it _was_ – other than a hallucination – he didn’t know. Better not to question, he decided, instead concentrating on using the grippers to pull the elastic of her panties up from one hip. A quick pass of the cutting tool, and he’d cut through it. A repeated action at the other hip, on the other elastic band, and the grippers were able to pull the scraps of underwear free. Leaving Cameron mostly naked on the table.

House moved the camera in another slow pan up her body, from her feet – one shoe was still on, but he couldn’t be bothered removing it – to the dark tangle of curls, the soft white expanse of belly and ribs, those very lovely breasts, and right up to her face. She opened her eyes, looking up at the camera – up at him. Moistening her lips. _Anticipating_.

He scrolled the camera back down, licking his own lips almost unconsciously when he had her pussy dead-centre on the monitor.

Time to see what else this baby could do. He used the lightest of touches again, guiding one gripper along the inside of each thigh, urging her to spread them. Stroking the tender skin the same way he’d stroked her cheek.

Until she was spread wide, and he could see everything. He zoomed in, examining, trying to memorize the soft pink landscape, the hills and valleys. The _river_ coming out from inside her.

He brought the aspirating tool closer, until he could slip the smooth plastic up the inside of one delicate inner fold. She moaned as he slid it slowly, so slowly upwards, and House became painfully aware that his injuries weren’t the only things throbbing, pulsing.

The tip of the tool reached her clit, which he could practically _see_ swelling, even on camera. He zoomed in even closer, watching closely as he directed a long blast of air against the little organ, making Cameron cry out and writhe a little on the table.

“Does that hurt?” he asked softly.

“N-no.” she said, in her breathy voice. So he did it again, before dropping the tool even lower. Now using it to caress her most sensitive spot in tiny controlled motions.

He worked his thumb in a tight circle around the dial, as if he was actually teasing her directly, as if her slick skin was right under the tips of his fingers or tongue.

House used his free hand to move the camera away, panning back up to her face. Still keeping up the motion of his thumb on the machine – on her. He watched her face, listening intently from across the room as her breathing got even faster, as she started to gasp and moan.

Observing, his own breathing coming faster as her face flushed, her skin becoming sheened with sweat. Listening as her gasps increased in volume.

Finally she threw her head back, giving voice to a long low cry, and he zoomed quickly out, watching the shudders wrack her body. And as the tremours of her orgasm subsided, he glanced down at himself and his erection, wondering what the hallucination would let him do next. Did he dare to try and get his no-longer-crippled-ass up to the table? Would he be allowed to finally screw Cameron’s brains out?

But when he glanced back up at the operating table again, Cameron was gone. And then in a flash he was back in his hospital room, his bed, with the shooter looking at him with aggravatingly smug eyes.

 _Damn._ It wasn’t enough that the guy had shot him, now he had to interrupt his sexual fantasies as well? _Asshole._ House promised himself that he’d ‘fix’ the guy’s meds again. After a nap, of course. He needed enough energy to fuel his next fantasy.

 


End file.
